#Because he's always struck me as a character who could never stand by if there was a way he could help

[enby-soup-computer]

You know what? I love Captain America. He's one of my childhood favorite superheroes, and he remains one of my favorites to this day. He's one of those paragon heroes, one of those heroes who makes every other person around them better, essentially Marvel's equivalent of Superman. And guess what? Cap and Supes have another thing in common; they're both American superheroes fought in WWII before the USA did. I love Cap because he's not representative of the USA, but what his creators believed the country to be capable of. Now I don't think they were right exactly, there's only so much good to be wrought from a country founded on imperialism and puritanicalism and genocide, but I like the ideals. Cap represents the principles of Truth and Justice and Freedom and Humanity and Kindness in the Face of Adversity. He was written by a couple Jewish men to be the hero they needed, and he keeps being the hero we need, just like my favorite Boyscout in Blue. I love Cap and heroes like him for the same reason Death must stand in for the Hogfather in discworld; we need to believe in such ideals, because they makes us all better.

[monzabee]

a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

[dearly-somber]

stand still (i’m sniffing you) | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, f2l (friends-to-lovers), (not actually) unrequited love, pining, mutual pining, high school!au, werewolf/shifter!au, fluff, domestic fluff

-> w/c. 802

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Inspired by that one clip where Jungkook back-hugs Hoseok while they’re practicing 🥹🥹

-> collection. mini-series

-> warnings. None!!

-> started. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 21:42

-> fin. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 22:19

-> edited. Tues., Feb. 20th, 2024 @ 07:06

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook has a stronger sense of smell than the rest of his pack. Partially because his wolf is simply better at it (much to the pack’s chagrin, because Jungkook never fails to bring it up during their biweekly pissing contests), but also because he’d been blessed with a good sense of smell even in his human form.

Something is burning a street down? Jungkook can smell it.

Someone took a shit in the backyard because they were too lazy to shift and do it inside where they could flush it? Jungkook can smell it (and he’s going to make it everyone else’s problem).

Y/N comes over without letting him know and—wait, what?

He sticks his head out of his room like an excited cartoon character. “Bunny?”

Jennie glowers at him as she’s walking down the stairs, shaking her head with a sigh. “She’s not even halfway up the pavement.”

Jungkook frowns, feeling a prickle of embarrassment race up the back of his neck. “A-and! You know she’s here!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I can hear her,” Jennie sasses, scoffing with a grin so shit-eating Jungkook thinks his eye twitches, “not because I’m so honed in on her scent that I know she’s coming from a mile away.”

“Okay it was not a mi—Y/N!”

She huffs as Jungkook barrels into her, stumbling back ever so slightly. Jungkook feels his wolf wagging his tail like the love-struck mutt he is, pulling back at Y/N’s signature okay, that’s enough pat-on-the-back she does whenever she deems a hug “over”.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” He can’t help but speak loudly, wondering if his eyes are sparkling—cliche, sure, but he remembers Yoongi mentioning it once, and it hasn’t left his mind ever since.

Y/N laughs (Jungkook’s heart soars in his chest), shaking hee head as she drops a duffel bag next to the coffee table, walking toward the kitchen with Jungkook hot on her heels.

“I wasn’t planning coming over but my mom dropped me off to go to the library and she isn’t picking me up until five, so I decided to come over and hang out.”

That explains it! Jungkook wondered why Y/N smelt more bookish than usual today. It’s always present under her daffodil-raisin combo, but it makes sense why it’s so much stronger today. He imagines her sitting in the library for hours on end, fully immersed in a book, and the thought makes him smile like a fool.

Jungkook is hit with the sudden, overwhelming urge to smell you. Fueled by his excitement at a surprise-visit and the whims of his wolf, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and pressing his nose to the back of your neck. His nose scrunches happily as he inhales your scent, first in short, wolfish little huffs, and then in longer, more appreciative inhales which infiltrate all his senses.

He waddles into the kitchen clinging to Y/N’s back, vaguely aware of the conversation she’s started with Rosé, Seokjin and Jisoo (who are busy making dinner), too focused on keeping his nose scrunched to the back of her neck to hear (or truly care about) the specifics.

“Jungkook-ah,” Y/N says softly, reaching up to touch his hands.

“Stay still,” he huffs, feeling a tingle run up his arms when she shivers at his breath on her neck. “I’m sniffing you,” he mumbles, swaying her from side to side as they come to a standstill in the middle of the kitchen.

Y/N snorts, and he imagines she has a smile on her face.

“Yah!” Seokjin yells, maneuvering around them with a pot of rice held close to his chest. “I’m trying to cook!”

“Yeah!” Rosé frowns, roughly mixing what Jungkook now realizes is kimchi. “Get a room!”

“Kook,” Y/N starts.

The whine he lets out dies in the back of his throat when she reaches up over her shoulder to palm his hair, gently scrunching her fingers in the messy strands. “Lemme help cook dinner and then we can play some Mortal Combat before I leave, hm?”

Waiting until the heat in the tips of his ears cools a little, Jungkook gives a curt little nod of his head (blatantly ignoring his wolf’s request to nip your shoulder). He inhales long and hard before finally letting you go.

Y/N then very casually turns to help the trio in the kitchen as Jungkook plops onto the couch in between Lisa and Hoseok with a satisfied sigh, practically sitting on top of them.

He yelps, rubbing the back of his head when he feels Hoseok smack him over the head with a pointed look.

“What?” he says, high-pitched and pouting.

Lisa just laughs, shaking her head as she scrolls through her phone. “You’re hopeless, Kook.”

<- prev | next ->

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny

A/N: I too have fallen ill to the widespread disease that is young snow 😮‍💨 like him being so fine is so unnecessary. Some quick notes: I've never actually written a fic on here nor a reader one in general so please deal with me! Also I wrote out this whole thing, posted it, then it went into oblivion and I had to rewrite it completely so I apologize! Please let me know if I should add anything or am missing certain details that seem necessary. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, thank you loves❤️

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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Blood just kept on coming. And coming. And coming. Every violent cough shaking your mother's body was followed by spatters of hot, deep red blood. You quickly tried to clean it up as soon as it came out to protect your mother's dignity and to make sure she didn't choke. It took a few minutes, but the coughing session passed and your mother took deep gulps of water, fighting off your attempt to get her to slow down.

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With her engrossed in her cup, you steal a glance at the clock on the wall. As the time for the start of classes nears, the more axinety builds in your chest. Your mother follows your gaze and smiles warmly.

"Run along my little scholar. I will be fine and even better knowing you are sticking your nose in every textbook you can find."

She says in a hoarse voice. You smile slightly and lightly laugh. "That's not how school works, mom. I stick my nose into tissues because of how many textbooks I have to read ."

She rolls her eyes at your little comment and does a little motion gesturing you should be on your way. Shaking your head, you retorted "I still have half an hour till classes begin and I have plenty of time for Rhayen (your driver) to take me to the academy."

You attempt to assure her. Though, it was now your mother's turn to shake her head.

"I know you prefer walking there, don't try to fool me now. You will come back after school and I will be fine. Don't worry, darling."

With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your rouge colored academy uniform and grab your bag. You give your mother a soft kiss on her temple and steal one more glance at the clock. You rush through the halls and down the stairs of your luxurious apartment. The academy wasn't too far from your home, so you could enjoy the walk and the early spring air ruffling your hair.

You tried to smile and nod at the strangers walking past. You needed to clear your mind (distract yourself) so you examined every part of the high class society. Their eyes, faces, hair, clothing, and whatever else you could analyze. With this strategy, it doesn't take long untill the grand structure of the Capital academy to come into view.

As you near the school, you notice a certain curly haired boy sitting on the steps. You feel a sense of relief and pick up your pace. You stop infront of the boy, who seemed too engrossed into his book to notice your sudden appearance.

"Are you behind on the reading or are you being a bookworm?" You question.

He snaps his head up with his familiar smile. "Had some extra time and motivation, so thought I would trudge through this absolute -"

You nudge him with your shoulder to motion to stop talking.

"Yeah yeah I know but be careful: Professor Rhaen always spawns out of nowhere and I would personally prefer if you were not on the receiving end of one of his lectures."

Everyone knew how hard it was to please your professor and how strict your he was. Especially with Sejanus.

He didn't care about his money: professor Rhaen still felt Sejanus was lesser because he was born in the districts.

That sentiment is widely shared with your classmates. From the first day, when little kind hearted Sejanus came to the capital, he was met with stares and whispers. You specifically remember Arachne snubbing the boy. But when lunch came and he sat all alone, seemingly dejected, you sauntered over to his table. Then, just like now, his brown eyes widened in surprise. You smiled and sat down in the chair across from him.

"What's your favorite smell?"

He just stared at you for a while. who asks that. The silence continued untill you got too impatient, a trait you still struggle with, and answer your own question.

"Mine is vanilla because it smells like the sweet cakes my mom makes on special occasions or even sometimes when she is in a really good mood."

A smell that has slowly been creeping its way back into your life after the war. He laughed at your confession and replied that his was lavender, the smell of his mother, or as he calls her, ma.

He was still warry as why you were sitting with him. It was clear you were well liked by your peers and teachers and always seemed to posses the right answers, exemplified in your shared morning classes. But as you both continued your meal and conversation, he felt as if he had been sent an angel that day.

"There's that smile, I've missed it." Sejanus says, breaking you out of your reminiscence.

You duck your head down in some sort of embarrassment and shame. It felt wrong to be smiling and laughing nowadays, especially with the worsening of your mother's condition.

Noticing your reaction and following your train of thought, Sejanus tried to backtrack.

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N! I'm sorry, you've been suffering and here I am saying stuff like that. I- I- wow I'm such an idiot! I'm truly sorry."

You look up to his genuinely defated and apolgetic face. "You have no reason to be sorry, it's okay. And it's not like I'm the one suffering. I can walk, talk normally, and am not coughing up blood while my face pales and hollows." You say solemnly.

Sejanus opened his mouth to question but was cut off as you both reached your destination. It was best not to discuss your mother's condition around your gossip privy peers around.

You walk to your desks and switch to the topic of later tonight, which you would be having dinner with the Plinths, an occurrence that is becoming more and more often. The last few of your classmates filled in, including Arachne, Clemensia, Festus, and Felix.

A few paces later comes in the charming and handsome Coriolanus Snow. You wouldn't be embarrassed to admit that description, any girl with eyes would agree. With that ever plastered, neutral yet calculated expression on his face, he quickly made his way to his seat, on the other side of you.

He wasn't necessarily friends with you or even Sejanus, but he was far kinder to him than the others were. That's probably one of the many aspects that makes him more appealing. You definitely didn't have a crush on him, but you have zoned out on his side profile once or twice.

Hey, you can't blame a girl!

Well that was your excuse to Sejanus, who caught you seconds in on staring at the blonde. But that was a long time ago. Now you were always zoned out on her.

That's exactly where your mind drifted to as Professor Rhaen began his lecture on the reading assigned. And it stayed there untill the sound of a pen hitting the marble floor brought you back.

You thought it could have been you, especially in your state of hazy focus and sleep deprivation. But taking a quick look at your feet, it was Coriolanus's.

Perfect and proper Coriolanus. Huh.

You hastily grab it and give it back to him, which he accepts with a small greatful smile. A smile that quickly turns into a look of concern.

He grabs your wrist and began examining it. You were stunned and curious what he was looking at until you noticed the deep and clear blood on your wrist, clear even on your deep red uniform.

You must have gotten it when taking care of your mother! You were mentally kicking yourself for being so careless.

"Your bleeding!" He states worridly. He quickly grabs a handkerchief from his bag and attempts to put it on your wrist, but you snap it away from his hold.

You noticed the initials on the white handkerchief. It was his father's. You certainly weren't going to stain such an item of sentiment with blood that wasn't even yours. Her blood.

He was moving to grab your wrist once again but was interrupted by the clear nosies of irritation and frustration of your classmates.

While you and Snow were having your little debacle, Professor Rhaen assigned an extensive research paper that will be due in two months. You understood your peers frustration, the longer you had in this class for an assignment, the more work and harsher the grading will be. But you were greatful for this assignment. It would be a wonderful distraction.

You took a quick look around to gage their reactions and saw Arachne's scowl which made you inwardly chuckle at her expression. But when you came back around to Coriolanus, you saw him still staring at with you a questioning expression.

Questions he would be unable to voice as the bell rang to signal the end of the first period. He tried to stop you or slow you down, but you were extremely focused on getting your materials in your bag and getting out of the intense stare of the blonde.

Sejanus noticed your haste and helped you out, while Snow was attempting to catch up, handkerchief still in hand. But you sped out and straight to the bathroom to wash off the blood covering your hands.

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A/N: Sorry to cut it off here! I felt this was already so long (future me after doing some revisions and having some actual writing under my belt - no it's not.), but don't worry I plan on posting again soon! I am excited to see where this is going I hope you all are too!

[zg0nuwa]

colors ; lin kuei trio

you guys are not going to like me after this one

cw ; angst, hurt&no comfort, character death, unrequited love, this is a song fic (personally i’m not the biggest fan but damn does this work so well with these three), might be a little ooc, i would like to sincerely apologize to tomas enjoyers, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

bi han

“ You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece ”

you knew him from the start, you were there when his father presented him the title of the future grandmaster as he was the firstborn of the family, you were there when he screamed and yelled how it’s not fair that his brothers don’t have to endure the same training as him.

you were there when his mother, the only figure in his life he could consider a parental one, died and you were there when he finally got granted the title of the grandmaster of lin kuei.

you were always there, no matter his failures, small mistakes and fits of rage as something didn’t go the way he wanted. no matter how ragged he seemed to be you saw the same little boy that strived to make everyone proud, strived for perfection.

“ And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink ”

who would’ve thought that the same boy you so admired for his commitment, for his determination would be the cause of your downfall. of course you loved him, how could you not? he tore through your thoughts like spilled ink through paper.

day and night, dawn and noon, sunrise and sunset it was about showing your worth to him. and of course it didn’t matter. he was so oblivious, so engrossed in his goals and ideas that he didn’t even consider spending his time on foolish matters like love.

he believed a person in love is a fool, an idiot, a naive moron that believed anything the loved one said. and he was right.

“ Everything is blue; his pills, his hands, his jeans ”

after the betrayal you tried so hard to rid yourself of the color of his vest. the blueness spilling everywhere from your walls, your clothes, the sky outside your window during exhausting days and sleepless nights. it was like a ghost was following you, eyes playing tricks and your brain showing the so dreaded color in the corner of your eye.

so when he actually arrived at the doors of shirai ryu you didn’t believe it. it was like a fever dream, they way his eyes gazed at you with pure hatred and resentment. you stared hoping to see something deep in there, like a confession, that he wished he didn’t have to do it, that he did it because he cared about you, that he loved you.

but there was nothing there, just the endless pit of rage.

“ And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams ”

you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance, not because you were not a warrior, you were, a great one even but even Achilles had a weak spot right? the only difference was that while Achilles had his heel you were standing face to face with your weakness. and he knew how to use this advantage.

“ you were supposed to be on my side. what a disappointment you are. ”

the hunting blue about to drown you, his clothes, the dark sky, the ice forming around his forearms, the color that now represents the clan which brought so much destruction to your home, the same color you once could even said you loved to death, just because it belonged to him.

“ And it's blue… ”

he stood above you with the bloody ice spear in his hands, directed perfectly at your beating heart. the heart that beat of him, at the pace he played. and of course he struck right where he wanted. he just couldn’t be more perfect, right?

tomas

he thought he lost everything he could, two families torn apart and he couldn’t comprehend what sins he must’ve committed to deserve such thing. but even with that he never lost hope, he didn’t care how childish it sounded. he still had kuai liang, he still had you.

“ Everything is grey “

you know what they say right? how everything has its end? good or bad, things will always end one way or another. and tomas knew, but oh how he wished things never ended. not now that you finally setteled in together at the shirai ryu he thought things will finally go the right way for him.

not everything was picture perfect, he still felt the immense guilt for “separating” the brothers and dragging you just by affiliation into this mess. sleepless nights spent with silent tears while you slept peacefully. harsh trainings and to top it off clumsiness from lack of sleep.

bruises and cuts becoming a normalcy for him. and so did become this far away, clouded look on his face.

“ His hair, his smoke, his dreams ”

you tried everything to get him out of that state, but if there’s one thing he shares with both bi han and kuai liang it’s the god damn stubbornness. you loved each other dearly, theres no denying that but the wall he created between you was becoming too much. for both sides.

the last time you confronted him about all the nights you spent alone or the times he ignored you during the day it ended in a screaming match. even if for him it was like a nightmare come true he couldn’t help but think he deserved you walking out on him with a loud and heart-wrenching scream.

“ i’m tired tomas, i cannot take this anymore! ”

oh how he wished it had never come to this.

“ And now he's so devoid of color ”

and now as he holds your body close to his chest, both your faces covered in blood, he understood that if there was someone to be deserving or undeserving of something, it’s you. you deserved better than him, better than what he had put you through, and you certainly didn’t deserve for your life to end this way.

“ i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. ”

he didn’t know what hurt more. the sight of your face slowly losing color, eyes slowly losing life, and the hold on his cheek becoming less and less firm or the fact that after all this, you still forgave him. it felt like someone had just shot him in the face, right between his eyes…

…and the scar stayed, for a long time. just like the shades of gray in his eyes and heart after losing the only source of color in his life.

“ He don't know what it means ”

the hope was all lost now.

kuai liang

“ You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue ”

‘childhood sweethearts’ was what a lot of people described you two as. friends from day one, that’s what comes with being a child of the grandmasters closest friend. you did everything together, all of your firsts were with the other one present.

“ But you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky ”

a sweet reality, truly. your best friend being your actually first ever friend, being your first handhold, your first kiss, even your first time. but isn’t it somewhat normal? teenagers exploring their possibilities, their sexuality, their bodies. it all seems harmless until feelings come in the way. they started after the kiss and only got worse.

it would be normal to consider that he liked you too, right? so when he asked you to meet up in your secret spot because he had something important to tell you? oh boy you were losing your absolute mind.

choosing your best clothes, doing your hair, you obviously wanted to be your best in that moment. waiting in the spot was becoming an agonizing activity, you came over half an hour earlier then you were supposed to because of excitement.

“ And you decided purple just wasn't for you ”

it was supposed to be the best day ever for you until you saw him leading a girl you recognized. harumi, of course you knew who she was. you were always jealous of her, her stupid perfect face, her stupidly beautiful hair, her stupid smile. and yet here she was, standing in a place you wanted so badly to occupy.

and kuai liang stood proudly in front of you, a smile on his face, his chin held high in pride. he looked happy, maybe even happier then he ever been. happier than he has ever been when with you.

“ i wanted you to be the first one to know, harumi is my girlfriend ”

because best friends since childhood always share their firsts. and it’s so sweet.

feeling a bit silly tbh :3

[aryxchse]

hiii would you do percy x daughter of zeus hcs? but reader is more like hera’s daughter?? i hope that explains itself like reader has attributes a daughter of hera would have

daughter of the heavens / percy jackson x daughter of zeus! champion of hera! reader.

a / n : ah, my favorite trope. hera adopting zeus' children and being a better parent for them🤭 i know being both child of zeus and champ of hera is hoTTT

warnings : omg i didnt cursed ig??

- he's scared

- you're the children of most feared two gods

- you have your fathers powers and hera's rage

- you weren't the best go to option in becoming friends for the campers

- that's why percy thought he was doomed when he saw you two spared for the sword practice

- but it didn't go the way he planned

- you did fight good and kicked his ass, don't get me wrong

- but you were so kind afterwards

- "you okay? did i accidently zapped you or something?"

- my man was shocked

- "n-no thanks, im okay."

- "your stands are too open by the way."

- normally he would be annoyed

- and overthink

- but right now he wanted to be close to you

- and give a little show to the camp, about two children of the big three is practicing together

- "can you fix me?"

- percy 'smooth' jackson everyone

- and, the sweet and kind you, obviously showed him how to stand good

- you were very outgoing and friendly, so it was easy for you two become close

- thanks to the fates or aphrodite, next day was his turn in the cabin check

- and luckily for him, you were assigned together

- "hey jackson."

- "wassup l/n."

- you both were eachother in different fonts fr

- and people thought you guys would fight already at some point

- but it never happened

- the more percy got close to you, the more he realised you were more like hera

- even though you're just her champion

- you hated zeus and didn't wanted to be his stereotypical child

- and percy definetly sees that

- you had your dads good (suprisingly he has a few) traits thats all

- like how you were a natural leader, and you can get competitive when you need to

- and think fast during attack

- but the other was just hera

- you were so motherly, even to percy

- "the weather will be cold, i can feel it. put a sweater on."

- jason doesn't know how you both become besties this easy but he wasn't complaining

- yeah he joked around and said don't date but like he shipped you guys from the start

- he'd love to have percy as brother in law fr

- percy eventually developed a crush on you because of how your characters matched

- you both loved pegasus riding for example

- and surfing

- you would blow a cold wind towards him when the weather is too hot

- and he'd make the water more warmer if it's too cold for you

- little things like that made you develope (is this how you spell?) a crush too

- after coming back from tartarus, percy didn't liked making things wait and he immediatly started to work on a confession plan

- he wanted to impress you, because you were the daughter of the king of the gods

- also his wife's champion

- you were olympus' princess fr

- no matter how much he tried, he didn't get the chance

- he made blackjack shape the clouds as hearts, but whenever he tried to say something someone appeared

- or you had to go because someone called you

- he tried like this for two weeks

- and then he started to get anxious and tired of it

- so when you both sat on the zeus cabin's roof, percy confessed

- "the stars are reall-"

- "im in love with you"

- your shock appeared in the sky and you accidently struck a lightning

- "wHAT-"

- my boy decided to never suprise you that night

- but you both started dating obvi

- POWER

- COUPLE.

- zeus is a hater but who cares

- hera is too but she is happy as long as you're happy

- and besides, percy's fatal flaw is loyalty so what could possibly go wrong?

- you two always pick eachother during quests

- and you guys fight in harmony

- you're in the wind i'm in the water fr

- katara and aang is that u???

- percy often tries to impress you

- because you're so unintentionally cool

- but you always wave him off by saying 'you can trip and fall but i'd still find you hot'

- and he blushes like a little girl

- your emotions are always mirrors the weather in camp

- so he tries his best to make you happy

- because once you made a rainbow when he gifted you a hand made paper flower

- idk how dont ask

- you often zap percy to remind him that you love him

- like it's your way of saying i love you

- and he splashes you in return

- you both have so much fun together

- long story short

- u guys are the coolest fr

[serknighted]

Danse & Hancock's parallels are eating my sanity slowly so by God I will write them here

So. Usually incredibly shy about posting my feelings about characters and my interpretations of them, but I don't think I can sit idly by without addressing 1. how much I love this post about Danse and how his story ties back to the isolation and loneliness of autism, and 2. how much I need more content between Hancock & Danse to exist, because my god sometimes I forget they hate each other in-game. (I strongly suggest you read the post mentioned & linked, they do a fantastic job framing Danse in a way I don't think I could fully articulate)

Danse & Hancock both have stories filled with themes of intense loneliness. Despite their hard work, effort, and prowess in the things they love, it doesn't take good sight to realize that neither of them are very well liked. It's not that they aren't respected, but whether it's Danse's all-too-formal approach to speaking, or Hancock's combination of hard drug use & almost constant overbearing presence (on top of years of slander from bigger cities, but we'll get into that), people see them as a tool of success and a good asset to have around, but not much of a friend, so to speak. Especially in Hancock's case, many people he is overly-affectionate with are often more annoyed by his presence than anything else (even if they do like him).

For Hancock, despite how much he claims to not relate to the isolation of the common ghoul, he's likely over-exaggerating his charisma in an effort to make himself more easily approachable, mostly for his own peace of mind rather than for others. While he sounds quite passive about things many others would react strongly to, I feel it's a combination of him having replaced a layer of how he truly feels with an element of sass on top of the drug use that makes all the trauma more easily bearable (to mixed effect).

One of his lines that has always struck me as conflicting with how he portrays himself is a common generic line he has while traveling with Sole Survivor, praising them for "living out the day" when most others could not. Hancock has seen so many people die to the brutal hands of the Commonwealth; whether it be Vic and his boys gunning down innocent drifters, seeing people succumb to the elements, or, in this case, simply not surviving their travels with him, Hancock seems to have a track record of never properly establishing proper bonds with others before they either die, or decide he's too overbearing to deal with further. He's one of those characters who desperately wants to have a deeper connection with those he loves, but he has consistently lost the chance to do so before he was ever ready, and so he chooses to fill the void with meaningless sexual relationships and one-night stands- anything to make him temporarily forget how much he hates himself and his almost comical lack of social understanding. It's a train of thought that I, as an autistic person, can really understand and relate to-- the desire to know people, but always feeling like no matter how you portrayed yourself, no one seems to want to be around you if you don't provide them with what they desire. It's caused him to deeply undervalue both how much he's done for people (since he believes its expected of him to constantly bend over backwards for the needs of others), and himself, all at the same time.

I don't think Danse fully recognizes how lonely he feels, a lot. He's been so heavily indoctrinated by the Brotherhood of Steel into believing that this is how he should be treated, that his work is for the betterment of humanity, that his sacrifice is a necessary one. The way he speaks almost carelessly about late brothers and sisters in arms makes me think really hard about how rooted this idea of only existing for the "greater good" is. Individuality is questionable & almost taboo, being different is outright abominable. It's the reason why the rhetoric of "Us vs. Them" works-- the BoS as a collective believe that they are doing good for all of humanity, and any outlier to that "perfect" formula is a threat not only to the BoS, but to everything they know. Danse is expected to bend over backwards for people, and no longer questions his loneliness or isolation, as he has all but given up his sense of self for what he believes is right. Another thing that I and many of my autistic friends relate to; a sense of justice so strong that it's overpowering. Like us, Danse is willing to sacrifice anything to do what's right... including himself.

Knowing this, it's easy to understand why he hates Hancock, and that backwards mindset is the reason Hancock hates him. It's an especially vicious cycle that constantly feeds into itself if unchecked, and Hancock knows that he alone cannot convince Danse to break that cycle. Hancock knows he can't beat Danse in a fight; all he has are his words, and logic is useless against an enemy that heeds to no truths. Even after Danse discovers his true nature... you can't expect him to unravel the years of constant reassurance that what he was taught was right in a single night. "Rome wasn't built in a day," and no one gets over their trauma so quickly, either. It's traumatic to have an explanation as to why people hate you. A catch-all reason to people's fear and distaste to you, that is also something you can never, ever change. Danse would sooner hate himself for what he is than accept those he used to murder without a second thought. It's the difficult reality of anyone attempting to unlearn painful conservative narratives; the shame & guilt of hurting others that are more similar to you than you ever wanted to know is sometimes more painful than realizing what you really are.

Hancock, albeit not even close to "recovered" from his mental woes, is much further along the path of acceptance to Danse, but not far enough away that he wouldn't understand where Danse is coming from. For so long, he sat idly by and watched people get hurt, even during his time in Diamond City. The constant conditioning to accept other people's pain as long as it wasn't happening to you still eats at his consciousness; just like Danse, he knows it was wrong to accept it, but the guilt makes it harder to deal with. He, of all people, would understand what it feels like to try so, so hard to fit in, to be normal and accepted, but never quite hit the mark of understanding where he fits in society. That's the reason he is the way he is now; his signature, his "Hancock," is to be as loud and out-of-place as possible-- a constant rebellion against what people expect him to be, a rebellion of oppression and unfair treatment. Danse's sheer existence is an involuntary rebellion of all BoS values, and even if Hancock would be hesitant to become close to Danse for a long while, I think he would be impressed by him, in the end, and more importantly, understand where he's coming from.

Their combined interest in both protecting the people they care about as well as the collective societies those people come from, as well as how nerdy they both are about US history... I think, eventually, they will realize how similar their lives were, how similar they are to each other, and maybe even find some comfort in knowing that they aren't alone in all of the waves of shame, guilt, and loneliness. That there is an overarching group of people who understand them, and that they do have a place in this world. I think once they recognize that similar traumas can manifest in polar opposite conditions (ones that they used to have a narrow, black-and-white outlook on), they'll also find that there is no real reason to hate each other anymore; the world has told them that they must hate each other, but they no longer have any need to listen.

TL;DR autistic Danse & Hancock ftw

[whinlatter]

The Ginny and Peter parallel though?? How have I never thought about that?? It‘s so horrifying and insanely compelling to me at the same time. I would love to hear (read?) you elaborate on that.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine…. I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen…. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me - " "Harry – oh, Harry – I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn’t say it in front of Percy. It was me, Harry – but I – I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to  - R-Riddle made me, he took me over..."

thank you so much for this question anon.  i have been thinking about this for a long time - about how ginny weasley might have made a really, really good traitor - and would love to talk more about my thinking behind it. a little meta on traitor talk - who flips, and why, and why ginny weasley might be the peter pettigrew to the trio's marauders after all - can be found below the cut (with spoilers for beasts chapter 14). 

hp, as a series, puts great moral emphasis on the concept of choice. after all, it’s about a world at war, where the question of whose side you're on is often a matter of life or death. double agents, deception, treachery, people serving the interests of others (either consensually or under duress): these are recurrent tropes, on both sides of the wizarding war. the plot begins the ultimate act of betrayal - that of lily and james potter by peter pettigrew - and the series concludes with the revelation of another (snape). throughout the books, there are all sorts of characters who spy, or flip, for all sorts of reasons. you have those who knowingly pretend to be serving the interests of one side when actually serving another, for principled reasons, either ideological motivation or out of selfless loyalty to another person: snape, peter, likely rookwood, quirrell, fake moody/barty crouch jr, both sirius and regulus black, kreacher, and narcissa in the forest. and then you have the group who betray either out of fear, or who are manipulated into acts of betrayal and deceit, sometimes through possession but otherwise through blackmail and intimidation, to varying degrees: xenophilius lovegood, mundungus fletcher, pius thicknesse, marietta edgecombe, bertha jorkins, bathilda bagshot, those types. (in a sign of jkr’s consistently dicked-up biases re gender in the series, women are never allowed to be interesting enough to actively betray anyone unless they’re doing it out of maternal love eg. narcissa - they can only ever actively be led astray or hoodwinked, whereas male characters can have a vast array of complex motivations and all sorts of shades of moral grey. we'll come back to that in a minute).

in chapter 14 of my postwar fic beasts, during the course of the hogwarts inquiry, augustus rookwood takes the stand and testifies of an attempt by him and his fellow death eaters to find someone who could play double agent to pass secrets about the resistance, the order and harry to the other side during the second wizarding war. rookwood - himself a former double agent - talks about how to make a traitor. he discusses the different motivations of traitors, how to find a target and how to exploit their existing vulnerabilities and weak-points to get them to come around to your side. he also reveals that, during the death eater seizure of the ministry and hogwarts school, he and his peers identified a would-be target in ginny weasley. in the fic, i have him describe the process of traitor-identification as ‘the pettigrew playbook’: finding someone who is connected, who knows the order’s secrets, who has the information you want, and who will flip less out of an ardent ideological commitment, but more because they are weak and scared but also disrespected and resentful and more inclined to save their own neck than act out of loyalty

i’ve always been very struck by peter pettigrew’s attempts to justify his betrayal of lily and james in PoA (see above). peter pettigrew is always a slippery and elusive character, rendered mostly through other people’s memories or descriptions of him. this is one of the very few times he explains something of his own worldview - though, as we know he is a liar, and in this instance errrr trying to save his own life as sirius threatens to kill him (slay), we have to take even these lines with a pinch of salt. we know pettigrew is a character that acts, at all times, out of a desire for self-preservation, trying to secure his own survival. he was tolerated but never respected by his schoolfriends, made the potters’ secret keeper as a ‘perfect bluff’ because he was a  ‘weak, talentless thing’ voldemort would never bother going after, a trait which ultimately made him the perfect and most vulnerable target. when outed as the real spy by sirius and remus here, he acknowledges he is aware of his deficiencies and weaknesses, and talks about his fear for his own life, his sense of how he did not live up to the principled bravery of his friends, and claims  that voldemort ‘forced him’ to surrender lily and james - presumably through the threat of terrible violence, suffering and death. 

pettigrew’s remarks are particularly interesting when put alongside the justifications and excuses of another character who has betrayed harry to voldemort, albeit under very different circumstances. like peter, ginny’s confession is given through floods of tears as a desperate plea to be believed and excused. in it, ginny begs harry to understand her own lack of culpability. just as wormtail does, she insists to harry she was forced by riddle to cause harm to others and to hand information about harry over to riddle, and to play an integral role in returning lord voldemort to life.  of course, the series always frames ginny’s actions in CoS as the behaviour of an entirely innocent person. but even these lines show a streak of self-preservation and a certain amount of weakness and cowardice that runs throughout ginny’s encounter with the diary. ‘I couldn’t say it in front of Percy’, she says, suggesting she feared getting in deep trouble with no proof of riddle’s hand in her actions. in fact throughout the diary episode, ginny shows real moments of acting to save herself rather than do the right thing and come forward with the truth. she tries to dispose of the diary, but doesn’t go to a teacher about what it has been making her do. she stole the diary back not to protect harry but to protect her own secrets and prevent him from discovering her complicity (at least by TMR’s telling). she even watches hagrid get falsely accused and sent to azkaban, and stays silent in the process, a distinctly pettigrew echo if ever i heard one. 

of course, we know ginny and peter pettigrew’s relationships with voldemort are not alike in dignity. it’s clear that, in so many ways, ginny’s encounter with the diary is much more clearly an experience of victimhood than of malicious intent. we know that ginny was possessed; we know she is not a character who would commit murder without that level of involuntary mental surrender. but there are more uncomfortable echoes of pettigrew in her experiences in CoS. we see them in the decisions of a character acting of fear and a desire to save their own skin in ginny’s experience of the diary than we might like to think. ginny ofc was targeted by lucius malfoy because of who her family was, as stalwarts of the anti-voldemort pro-muggle resistance during the first wizarding war, with powerful enemies determined to discredit and undermine them at every turn. but, as TMR makes clear, what makes ginny such a good target in the end, so vulnerable and so useful, was that she was weak. she was insecure, and lonely, teased and misunderstood and feeling inadequate. in all of that, there was a very rich opening for TMR to access her innermost fears and secrets and to use them to manipulate, pressure and threaten her into compliance, in addition to the active possession of her body to conduct deliberate acts of attempted murder. it’s not a perfect pettigrew parallel by any means. but there’s more than a little bit of pettigrew in that, too. 

maybe more parallels with ginny and peter pettigrew than meets the eye - particularly in ginny’s relationship to the trio. there are a few posts that periodically do the rounds on tumblr and reddit that talk about neville’s relationship to the trio as the parallel to peter pettigrew’s with the marauders - as this post compellingly puts it, ‘all who peter could have been’. neville, these posts usually point out, was a character who was weak and much less talented than his friends, an outsider who needed the protection and patience of cooler classmates, who was always on the outside looking in on a friend group that largely excluded him. what distinguished neville from peter was his approach to his own weakness, and how that approach drove him to heroism rather than betrayal and villainy. it’s an interesting idea, and there’s something to it. but the more i thought about it, the more i thought - is neville + the trio the only parallel with peter + the marauders? what about ginny? 

it’s remarkably under-appreciated in fandom that ginny is remarkably poorly treated by the trio for much of the series. ‘go away, ginny’ - that’s how ron banishes his sister at the start of PoA, because harry mutters to his two mates that he wants to talk to them in private and to ditch ginny. neither harry nor hermione object to it - hermione, though kind to ginny when the dementors arrive, makes no defence of her right to stay. ginny duly leaves, hurt, to go sit by herself on the train back to school, returning to hogwarts for the first time after her deeply traumatic experience in the chamber, dismissed and dispatched. not meaning to drag ron here - this is, ofc, how big brothers have behaved for time immemorial, as is their wont. but it’s kind of the statement for how the trio treat ginny for much of her school career really until HBP, harry and hermione included. ofc there are many textual/plot reasons ginny needs to be held at arms length from the trio. but it is striking that the effect of this plot habit for the reader is a usually unkind and sometimes even callous exclusion of ginny by the trio throughout many of the books.

in CoS itself, ginny is never invited to join the trio or spend any time with them: when she isn’t, you know, trying her hand at possessed attempted murder, she’s doing a light bit of potter hero worship that does recall a certain lakeside snitch-catching display of yore. it’s ginny who’s left feeling left out when the trio are swapping suspicious eyes and sirius secrets in GoF, ginny who is hermione’s back-up friend when the ron and harry showdown kicks off over the triwizard tournament, ginny who shoulders the role as harry’s consolation prize friend when ron and hermione go off to the prefects on the train in ootp (and takes him to neville and luna), ginny who goes defenceless when the trio are demanding to be included in order secrets and is physically removed from the room with no protest from the others, ginny who has to fight her case to be taken seriously and included in the department of mysteries plot to rescue a man she too is friends with (‘I care about Sirius as much as you do!’), being patronised by three friends who pick her up and put her down when they feel like it (always enjoy hermione being like ‘we need three thestrals!’ and ginny being like ffs we need four why won’t you show me an ounce of respect). in fact, when ginny is revealed to be becoming popular in a different social circle throughout ootp and hbp, it is something of a shock to harry and ron, who have spent a good six years making no effort to include her and now are finding she has built a much more successful social life beyond them (you reap what you sow, lads). i don’t say this to overstate the trio’s malice nor to overstate the pettigrew comparisons (ginny is clearly both conventionally attractive and much more socially adept).. but i do think it’s striking that  if there is a character with pettigrew echoes in the trio’s surround, always orbiting the trio, trying to feel included (and hero worshipping the potter at the heart of it), it’s more often young ginny than it is neville. so many of the things that made ginny vulnerable to TMR - her loneliness, her isolation, her insecurities and sense of inadequacy - are not helped by the trio in the years afterwards, and in some cases, actively reinforced.

(to briefly say something on gender - sometimes wonder if ginny were a male character if people would have made more of this. percy stans, for instance, go to great lengths to point out all the ways percy was bullied or teased by his family as an excuse for his errrrr war crimes. would people care more about many ginny's exclusions if she were a maligned misunderstood young man? probably? it's noticeable too that all traitors in hp are men lol, a classic example of jkr’s weird and fucked feminism striking again. women are led astray or hoodwinked - men get the complex motivations and agency arcs. but i digress).

why does any of this matter? we know ginny doesn't take the path of pettigrew, however much she might have good reason to. harry's endearingly naive line in DH ('I trust all of you, I don’t think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort’) ends up being borne out: there are no betrayals during the second wizarding war, and certainly not by ginny (though the sword heist almost ended up doing it on accident). but i found myself thinking a lot about this as i was sketching out the plotline for beasts and thinking about ginny’s war, and what is asked of ginny in it. i was particularly thinking about it relation to how the second wizarding war plays out, the unique position of danger ginny would have been in as a hogwarts student in the 1997-1998 academic year, and what a good target she would make for death eaters on the hunt for a spy within the order of the phoenix.

when i was reading DH for the first time, i remember thinking that it is absolutely bonkers that ginny weasley goes back to hogwarts in september ’97. by that summer, the weasleys are the order of the phoenix. no longer just the blood traitors’ blood traitor, they’re now the face of the wizarding resistance, both parents and (nearly) all sons in active combat, something the ministry certainly knows about even when trying to normalise death eater rule and allowing the facade of arthur et al going to go to work in the ministry/gringotts etc. ginny’s family home is order hq: she lives there all summer, and trots off to the hogwarts express straight from the kitchen table where order meetings take place. when death eaters descend on the wedding, she’s there alongside the rest of the rest of dumbledore stans. she is also famously in the DA, and fought death eaters alongside the trio in the department of mysteries, and again in the battle of the astronomy tower. and then there’s the obvious point that hinny shippers everywhere have pointed out is baffling since the dawn of time, which is that the world and his wife knows that ginny weasley is harry potter’s ex, something that might put a big fat target on her head for a death eater or two to have a pop at trying to get some secrets and intel out of her. 

of course, there’s a compelling case for why ginny has to go back. ron’s already used the splattergroit excuse, and arthur’s going to work, and so is bill, and the twins (at least for a bit), and the weasleys are going for normalisation and at least a fig leaf of compliance. so off ginny goes, into the belly of the beast, back to school, despite all the access she has to order secrets and intel, as well as information on harry and the trio. she is in a uniquely dangerous position of risk: it’s a fortress run by death eaters and her card is marked. she finds herself in an unenviable and unrivalled position as a very good person to go after if you’re a death eater fancying some intel about what the guerilla resistance - and harry potter - are up to. we know there are death eaters about who would like to claw themselves back into some level of relevance by working towards the big man and trying to curry favour (yaxley). we know there is a family intimately aware of ginny weasley's weakness and failings who are desperate to get back in voldemort's good books (the malfoys). we also know there are witnesses to ginny's exclusions both from the order and from the trio over the years - in particular, one witness that already sold secrets on the order to death eaters, namely kreacher.

the reason i came back to thinking about parallels between ginny and peter in beasts is because beasts is a story about ginny’s war, but also in part about morality in the wizarding world, about war and sides and choices. at various points in beasts, i’ve tried to play with ginny’s echoes with characters that waver morally - including regulus - or who find themselves drawn to or in some way embroiled in darkness, and who are at times governed by fear and cowardice and self-preservation in a moral universe that prizes bravery, loyalty, and self-sacrifice. so this plot came from putting all these pieces together - ginny's existing vulnerabilities and insecurities, her position of privilege and access, but also her alienation and mistreatment, and this interest in moral motivations and what experiences or traumas might lead a person, or even justify, a person's treachery, moral inaction, or active moral failing. it was even more interesting for me to play with the idea that other people might have noticed ginny weasley's weird position relative to the trio and the order too, people who want to know what she knows and who would be willing to exploit the cracks in those relationships for strategic wartime gain. and that's for chapters fifteen and sixteen!

[writer-in-theory]

nothing can be certain except (death) and taxes

Summary: When the words on a person's skin are the last words their soulmate will say before death separates them, Steve has never hated being loved so much. Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: Temporary Character Death (EMPHASIS ON THE TEMPORARY), Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptions of Injuries Read On AO3: Coming soon (to a theatre near you) A/N: This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! Thank you so much for letting me participate again, this was so much fun to work on. @harringrove-relay-race

Steve always hated the idea of soulmates. 

The idea of a perfect match out there for him could have been a comfort, if it weren’t for the words carried on his arm his entire life. How cruel was it, for the universe to have perfect matches but only confirm them at the end of their time together? The words could’ve been a comfort, if they weren’t the confirmation of the last words he’d ever hear from his soulmate before they left the world permanently. 

I love you.

How cruel of his soulmate, to leave him with those words. 

Steve didn’t know Billy was his soulmate—there was no way of knowing, really—but he knew. It was obvious in the way that Steve’s entire world changed the moment Billy moved to town, and in the way that even hearing his voice was enough to bring a smile to Steve’s face. 

The other man hadn’t made it easy, especially in the early days when he was more a feral cat who struck out at any signs of affection made toward him. He could be rude, and often picked fights first rather than try to talk things out, but he was also fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and the more people who cared in return the more Billy seemed incapable of going without a gentle touch, even if it meant most of the time he and Steve ended up tangled together in a pretzled mess when they spent time with one another.

And the thing was, Steve was happy. Totally, painfully so. He looked upon Billy and wondered how anyone could ever make him feel so much all at once. Then he’d look down at his own arm and wonder how much it would hurt to go back to how it had been before, without Billy.

The Upside Down had taken so much from too many people, but Steve knew, standing on the second floor of Starcourt Mall, that he would be the one to ensure its downfall, no matter what.

Time moved both too slow and too fast, leaving Steve helpless to watch as Billy stood between El and the Mind Flayer, arms stretched out wide as if to accept his fate without fear.

He heard screaming, likely some of it was his own. He wasn’t sure how he made it to Billy’s side so quickly, just that he blinked and suddenly his knees were stained red from all of the blood spilling from Billy now. 

“Why’d you have to do that, you asshole?” Steve felt like he was choking on every breath, the air stinging against his chest as he watched Billy’s chest stutter and falter painfully. Please, take the air from my lungs. I don’t want it if you’re not here. 

“‘m sorry.” Billy’s eyes were on Max’s then, but the hand Steve was holding squeezed, as if to let him in on the secret too. 

He knew Billy had a complicated relationship with his step-sister, one that he’d admitted could have been better once they got out from under his dad’s roof. If they had more time.

It was like Steve was watching all of the time they were supposed to have melt away around them. It seeped out onto the floor like the blood that was supposed to be keeping Billy’s heart beating. 

“You’re supposed to stay,” Steve said the moment Billy’s attention turned to him. There was a glassiness to the man’s eyes, as though he wasn’t really seeing Steve. He’d take it anyway, because there wasn’t enough time to wait for Billy’s attention to refocus. He wasn’t sure it ever would. “What happened to graduating and getting the hell outta here? Getting in your car and just taking off?”

He’d balked at the idea of driving off without any plan, with minimal bags packed. Now, Steve would do anything if it meant they could have that future. They could slowly make their way to California, stopping at all of the cheesy tourist sites along the way. Steve would wrestle Billy into a dorky hat at the largest ball of yarn in the country and would make a solid attempt at getting arrested for trying to pet a bear at Yellowstone. He’d share sketchy motel rooms with him and complain about how uncomfortable the mattresses were, and even accept the teasing about him being a rich kid through and through.

He’d take all of it, for just a little bit of time.

Billy was coughing now, and the dark blood staining his lips and chin were only another sign of the inevitable. Even through all of that, he managed to say something. 

“I lo—”

“No,” Steve snapped out, hand still holding Billy’s squeezing tightly. No, it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to lose him, not when they were just finding out that they’d been right this whole time. “No, don’t say it.”

If he didn’t say it, they could have more time. They could have more, as long as those three words on Steve’s arm were never spoken aloud.

Except the light in Billy’s eyes faded all the same, and the words he’d never actually said felt like a mockery on Steve’s arm.

“Steve, you have to go to the funeral. You’ll be upset with yourself later if you don’t.”

Robin still came by, sometimes. He wasn’t good company, hadn’t been since Starcourt, but she sat with him anyway.

“He’s not dead,” Steve said, arms curling tighter around his pillow like if he just held on it might feel like Billy eventually.

“Steve.” The words were sad, wobbly with tears he knew she was trying to bravely fight off. 

“He’s not. He didn’t say it, so he’s not gone.”

They’ve had this conversation before. Once, three days after Starcourt when she was still required to watch over him in case his head injury from the Russian interrogation turned for the worst. It had been in the late hours of the night, both of them laid in his bed awake and staring at the ceiling. She’d turned to face him, hand coming out to hold onto her friend when he admitted what he knew. 

Billy couldn’t be dead, because if he was then he would’ve said it.

“I know you lo—” The word cracked harshly on her tongue. “I know how important he was to you. But he’s, there’s no way he made it. You know that, right? He’d want you to move on.”

The thought alone had a dull laugh building in Steve’s chest. The longer it sounded the more hysterical it came, until he was laughing and letting out hoarse sobs in between. Robin’s eyes were wide and her lips were parted in both shock and horror at the outburst, clearly not knowing how to handle him now.

“He wouldn’t,” Steve said once the laughter died down, leaving behind only the tears. “The bastard would’ve told me not to move on. He’d expect a mourning widow for at least a decade, maybe two. But I won’t do that because he didn’t say the words so he’s not dead. He can’t be, he’s too stubborn to die in this fucking town.”

“Have you…you didn’t say the words on his arm either.” Max, the little traitor. “You’re allowed to love someone even if they’re not the one, you know? Maybe there’s someone else out there, and that’s not to say you have to stop loving him, just that you can love this person too.”

It was the more reasonable answer, but the mere thought of accepting that Billy was truly gone sent his heart threatening to burst straight out of his chest. There had to be another explanation, because there was no way that the guy who snuck out near every night despite the threat of discovery simply so Steve wouldn’t be lonely in his big, empty home wasn’t his soulmate.

“I can’t mourn someone who’s not dead, Robin. Tell Max and Susan I’m sorry.”

When the Upside Down inevitably came back, Steve didn’t feel his usual amounts of fear.

He was determined—completely focused and ready to take down the thing that had taken too much from him already. 

When Max admitted that the visions being sent to her by the fucking thing were of Billy, Steve thought he’d only ever see in shades of red. 

Because how dare that monster try to twist and mutilate any of Max’s affection for her brother into something like guilt? How dare he try to ruin the shaky truce that they’d come to just before Billy died?

How dare that monster wear Billy’s face, and use his voice?

Even if it took the rest of him, Steve would make sure that nothing from the Upside Down to crawl its way into Hawkins ever again.

“Steve! What the hell happened?” That was Robin’s voice, though it sounded further away than he thought she actually was. 

He was still seeing in tunnel vision, vision slightly blurry and blood pounding in his ears as he surveilled the scene, ensuring no more of those demobats had appeared.

He didn’t even feel the bites taken out of him until the others got near, Nancy’s worried gaze focused on the exposed skin just above his hips. 

“Hey guys, I think I found the gate,” Steve forced out on his next heaving breath.

That was a lot of blood, wasn’t it? It seemed the Upside Down took his promise seriously and would try to take literal pieces of him with it. 

That was fine, so long as this ended with Vecna’s plan stopped short in its tracks.

“Something’s coming,” Eddie called out, eyes watching the treeline ahead of them as Nancy and Robin looked over Steve’s wounds. They wouldn’t be fatal, at least not for awhile yet. He still had enough time to avenge his soulmate’s not-death.

Steve didn’t have his trusty nail bat, or much else in the way of a weapon. But he’d taken down a pack of demobats with nothing but his hands (and teeth), so whatever had the nerve to attack them now would come to regret it, of that he was sure.

It had to be another trick. Maybe this was Vecna trying to take hold of Steve’s guilt now, forcing him to see the one thing that repeated in his head every night in his dreams. Because walking out of the trees now was Billy fucking Hargrove, still in a bloodstained white tank though having also acquired a jacket that looked suspiciously like one Steve used to wear constantly in his earlier high school years. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the fake Billy called out, “you’re doing what the fucker wants.”

Robin was nudging Steve’s arm, threatening to send him toppling into the dirt with how unsteady his injuries had already made him. She looked more hopeful than he felt, watching him with confusion as if she expected Steve to take off running into fake-Billy’s arms without question.

He knew Billy couldn’t be dead, but why the fuck would he be here?

The fake-Billy was upon them now, stood in front of Steve and looking at him with one eyebrow raised. It was this look that made Steve’s knees crumple in on his own weight, because God that was such a Billy move to challenge him even while announcing his not-death.

“You’re not dead,” Steve gasped out, stumbling back a step in an attempt to stay upright. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“Then why d’you still look like you’re seeing a ghost, Harrington?”

The smile on Billy’s face was small, a little tug of the corner of his lips like he was still insistent on hiding it around other people. It said enough, though. 

This was Billy, back from the dead. He hadn’t said the words and he hadn’t died, and all of that time Steve thought they’d lost was never really gone after all. 

The kiss was pretty bad, by Steve Harrington standards. He rushed forward too roughly and their teeth clicked together awkwardly as Steve grabbed both sides of Billy’s face and pressed their mouths together. They had a better kiss right after, when Steve pulled back and watched Billy with a wild gaze until the blonde pressed their lips together again, hands holding onto Steve so tightly he was sure there’d be bruises left behind later. He didn’t care, not when it was another sign that Billy hadn’t truly been gone.

There was something desperate and wild in Billy’s eyes too, like he hadn’t quite believed this moment would ever happen either. Steve didn’t know what he had to go through to survive this long in the Upside Down, and while he’s sure he’ll find out eventually he can’t bring himself to care in the moment because all he could think was Billy isn’t dead.

“I lo—”

“I know, me too,” Steve cut him off, never wanting to hear those words in Billy’s voice. He knew, too, that eventually he would just as he’d known that their end did not come in the main walkway of Starcourt Mall. But for now, he could find peace in delaying the inevitable, in letting their hold on each other say everything those words could have and more.

There was still so much to do, too many important parts of their lives to fight for and protect. It felt a little more possible, though, with Billy by his side.

After all, who else could say they cheated the universe? They’d confirmed for themselves what everyone else could only guess at: Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were meant for each other, and it was as simple as that.

I am so pleased to hand it off to the amazing and lovely @greyghoulclub ✨

[cheynovak]

The shadowsinger  part 2  

Characters: Azriel  x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Y/N, the niece of Lucien, has fled an arranged marriage, only to find herself hunted by her cruel uncle, Beron. Lost in the cold woods, she is discovered by Azriel, who is reminded of his own painful past. He brings her back to Velaris, but the journey is only beginning. 

Warnings: a little jealousy  

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

Weeks had passed, and while Y/N was still adjusting to the warmth and kindness of the Night Court, she couldn’t deny that she liked it. Velaris, with its welcoming people, was nothing like the cold, calculating world of the Autumn Court. Here, she was free—free to heal, to breathe, and to begin discovering who she was outside of her family’s shadow. 

Azriel checked in on her almost every day, his presence a comforting shadow in the background of her new reality. There was a connection between them, something unspoken that simmered beneath the surface. Y/N couldn’t quite put it into words, but it was there, lingering in the way his gaze softened when he looked at her, the way his shadows seemed to reach for her whenever they were near. 

Yet, there was something else she had noticed—a cold hardness between Azriel and Lucien, an unspoken tension that seemed to crackle whenever they were in the same room. It wasn’t just a simple rivalry; it was something deeper, more complicated, and Y/N could see it in the way Lucien’s jaw would tighten whenever Azriel was around, and in the way Azriel’s eyes would darken ever so slightly in response. 

One day, feeling the need to escape the confines of the House of Wind, Y/N took a stroll through the garden. It was a beautiful, serene space, with flowers blooming in vibrant colours and the scent of fresh earth filling the air. She wandered aimlessly, enjoying the peace, until she heard a soft laugh that made her stop in her tracks. 

Elain. 

Y/N followed the sound, her steps slowing as she rounded a corner and saw them—Elain and Azriel—standing together near a cluster of roses. Elain was laughing, her expression bright and full of life, while Azriel stood close, a rare, genuine smile curving his lips. The sight of it—a smile that she had never seen him give her—sent a sharp pain through Y/N’s chest. 

She knew she shouldn’t feel it, that Azriel had every right to smile at whomever he wished. But seeing him so casual, so relaxed with Elain, it hurt in a way that surprised her. It was as if she was intruding on something private, something sacred. 

Y/N’s heart twisted as she looked at Lucien, who had just walked into the garden. He was standing a short distance away, his eyes fixed on the same scene. The look on his face mirrored the feeling in her chest—an ache, a deep sadness that he couldn’t quite hide. 

Curious and needing to understand, Y/N approached Lucien, her voice soft as she asked, “What happened between Azriel and you?” 

Lucien’s eyes didn’t leave the pair in the garden, but his jaw tightened before he spoke. “Elain is my mate,” he said, the words heavy with emotion. “But Azriel… he’s close to her. Too close. I fear she might be falling for him.” 

Y/N’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But… I thought the mating bond was unbreakable. Doesn’t it always… win?” 

Lucien let out a cold, bitter laugh, finally tearing his gaze away from Azriel and Elain to look at Y/N. “You’d think so,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “But Elain already chose a human over me once. A mortal, weak and frail. I wasn’t enough for her then, so why would I be now? An Illyrian warrior is an upgrade, isn’t it?” 

Y/N’s heart ached for Lucien, hearing the pain in his voice. She knew he didn’t mean it—knew that his words were born of jealousy and hurt. But they struck a chord deep within her, something she didn’t quite understand herself. Because as much as she empathized with Lucien, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something else—something unpleasant—when she looked back at Azriel and Elain, still wrapped in their own world. 

It wasn’t just jealousy; it was something deeper, something that clawed at her heart when she saw Azriel smiling at Elain in a way he had never smiled at her. Y/N had thought she was content with the connection she shared with Azriel, the quiet none conversations while they read books together in silence or looked out the window not saying a word but the quiet felt nice, the way he seemed to care for her in his own, reserved way. But now, seeing him so open, so warm with someone else, it made her question everything. 

“Lucien,” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “do you think… do you think the bond can be ignored? That… that someone could choose another over their mate?” 

Lucien’s gaze softened, the coldness in his voice melting away as he looked at her. “The bond is powerful, Y/N, but it isn’t infallible. It can be ignored, even rejected. Love… love doesn’t always follow the rules. And that’s what makes it so damn painful.” 

Y/N nodded to Lucien, her mind whirling with the new understanding of the complexities of love, of the bonds that could tie two people together, yet not always in the way one might expect or hope. The thought of asking Lucien more about how and when he realized Elain was his mate gnawed at her, but fear held her back. 

When she glanced back at Azriel, she found him looking her way. He nodded at her with that same friendly, calm expression he always wore, but she couldn’t help but feel the sting in her chest at the sight. She tried to return the gesture, but her lips barely twitched, and she knew the pain in her eyes was all too visible. 

-- 

That evening, the dining room felt unusually quiet. It was just her and Azriel at the table, the others having left for various duties or to give them space. The meal was simple, but the silence between them was anything but. It hung heavily in the air, thick with unspoken words and emotions that neither of them seemed ready to address. 

Y/N glanced up at Azriel, trying to mask the nervous flutter in her stomach. She needed to know—she couldn’t bear the weight of her thoughts any longer. She tried to sound casual as she finally asked, “Azriel… you and Elain... you eh, you get along well aren’t you?” 

The change in Azriel was subtle, but she saw it. The slight tightening of his jaw, the way his gaze flickered away from hers for a brief moment before he met her eyes again. For a heartbeat, she thought he might not answer, that he might deflect the question like he often did when the conversation edged too close to personal matters. 

But then he spoke, his voice quiet and steady, “Elain is… wonderful. Even when she was human, there was something about her, something pure and kind. I’ve always admired that about her.” 

Y/N’s heart sank as she listened, though she tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know how he felt about Elain, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. And now, she had to face the truth. 

Azriel continued, his tone thoughtful, as if he were weighing his words carefully. “She’s been through so much, more than anyone should have to endure. I suppose… I’ve always felt a need to protect her, to be there for her in any way I can.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at Y/N. “You should get to know her, Y/N. I think you might like her. You could even become friends.” 

Y/N forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, maybe,” she replied, her voice sounding distant even to her own ears. 

Azriel’s words echoed in her mind long after they finished their meal, each one digging deeper into the wound she hadn’t realized was there. He spoke of Elain with such quiet reverence, such admiration, that it was impossible not to hear the affection behind every word. It was the way he spoke of her, the way his eyes softened when he mentioned her name, that cut the deepest. 

-- 

The days that followed were a blur of self-imposed isolation. Y/N retreated to her room, burying herself in books and convincing herself that her feelings for Azriel were nothing more than a misplaced sense of gratitude. He had saved her, had been kind to her when she was at her lowest—that was all. These feelings, she told herself, were just a byproduct of the bond they had formed in those vulnerable moments. They would pass. She just needed to get through them and move on.  

For three days, she avoided him. She kept to her room, choosing solitude over the risk of seeing him with Elain again, of feeling that gnawing pain in her chest every time he smiled at someone who wasn’t her. The others had noticed her absence, of course, but they respected her need for space, assuming she was still recovering, both physically and emotionally, from everything she had been through. 

But on the evening of the third day, there was a knock on her door. 

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around the book she had been pretending to read for the past hour. She knew who it was before he even spoke. 

“Y/N?” Azriel’s voice was gentle, filled with a concern that made her chest tighten. “Are you alright?” 

She kept her eyes fixed on the pages of the book, even though the words had long since lost their meaning. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice steady, but hollow. 

There was a pause, and she could almost feel him on the other side of the door, weighing his next words. “I’ve hardly seen you these past few days,” he said, his tone careful, as if he didn’t want to push too hard. “I was wondering if you might like to join me in the living room. We could read together, if you’d like.” 

The offer was tempting, almost painfully so. Reading with Azriel had become something of a routine for them, a quiet, comfortable time where she could be close to him without the pressure of conversation. But the thought of sitting next to him now, of trying to pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t, felt too overwhelming. 

“I’m okay here,” she said, forcing a small smile that he couldn’t see. “But thank you.” 

Another pause, longer this time. She could sense the disappointment in the silence, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up, to see it reflected in his eyes. She knew that if she did, she might give in, might lose the fragile control she had managed to maintain over her emotions. 

“Alright,” Azriel finally said, his voice softer now. “But if you need anything… you know where to find me.” 

She nodded, though she still didn’t look up. “I will. Thank you, Az.” 

For a moment, she thought he might say more, might push just a little harder to break through the walls she had thrown up between them. But instead, she heard the soft sound of his footsteps retreating, the door closing quietly behind him as he left her alone. 

As soon as he was gone, Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She closed her book, setting it aside, and leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. The room felt emptier now, the silence more oppressive without Azriel’s presence on the other side of the door. 

She had thought that avoiding him would make things easier, that the distance would help her sort through her feelings, help her push them aside and regain some semblance of control over her heart. But instead, it only made her feel more alone, more uncertain. 

-- 

Azriel walked into the kitchen, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and concern. Cassian was already there, leaning casually against the counter as he munched on a piece of bread. The kitchen was warm and filled with the comforting smells of fresh food, but none of it seemed to reach Azriel. His mind was still back in the hallway outside Y/N’s door, replaying their brief conversation over and over again. 

Cassian looked up, noticing the dark mood that clung to Azriel like a shadow. He paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “What’s got you all broody this time?” 

Azriel shrugged, leaning against the counter opposite Cassian. “It’s Y/N,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “She’s been… acting strange lately. Distant.” 

Cassian’s grin was instant, mischievous and knowing, as if he had just been waiting for Azriel to bring it up. “When was the last time you saw her?” 

“Three days ago,” Azriel replied, frowning. “In the garden, with Elain. She seemed fine then, but later that night at dinner… I don’t know, something changed. Since then, she’s been avoiding me.” 

Cassian’s grin widened, and he shook his head with a chuckle. “And you’re supposed to be the all-knowing, all-seeing spymaster,” he teased, popping another piece of food into his mouth. “You really can’t see what’s going on here?” 

Azriel frowned, a flicker of annoyance sparking in his chest. “What are you talking about?” Cassian laughed outright now, leaning forward as if he couldn’t believe how clueless his brother could be. “The girl likes you, Az,” he said, still grinning. “It’s as clear as day.” 

Azriel blinked, taken aback. The idea was so far from what he had expected Cassian to say that it left him momentarily speechless. “What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, still amused by how oblivious his brother could be. “Come on, Azriel. You know how this works. She’s been distant because she’s trying to figure out how to deal with her feelings. She probably saw you all cozy and cuddly with Elain.” 

Azriel’s protest was immediate, his tone defensive. “I wasn’t cuddly with Elain,” he insisted, frowning at the very idea. He thought back to those moments in the garden, the easy laughter they had shared. It hadn’t been anything more than that—at least, not to him. But he realized, belatedly, how it might have looked to someone else, someone who cared for him in a way he hadn’t fully understood until now. 

“Anyway,” Cassian continued, waving a hand dismissively, “the point is, she likes you, Az. And she’s probably confused as hell because she thinks you’re more interested in someone else.” 

Azriel’s thoughts swirled in turmoil as he struggled to grasp the implications of Cassian’s words. The realization that Y/N might have feelings for him—and that he had been so blind to it—hit him with a wave of guilt and regret. His protective instincts had always been strong, but now he was facing the consequences of not seeing her as more than just someone to safeguard. 

The two males’ heads snapped toward the door as it creaked open. Y/N stood in the doorway, her face flushed with embarrassment as she caught the tail end of their conversation, all she heard was “you’re more interested in someone else.” 

Her eyes widened when she realized she had interrupted something private. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just—” 

Before she could finish her sentence, she started to turn away, her shoulders hunched as if bracing for whatever might come next. 

Azriel’s heart twisted at the sight of her, the look of hurt on her face, but he stayed rooted to the spot. The weight of Cassian’s words and the situation at hand made him hesitant to act, unsure of what to say or do. 

Cassian, however, wasn’t so reserved. With a look of disbelief, he smacked Azriel’s shoulder with a playful but firm shove. “Really, Az?” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’re just going to let her walk away? 

Cassian, seeing Azriel’s hesitation, grabbed a plate from the counter piled high with food and thrust it into Azriel’s hands. “Go bring her some food,” he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. “And while you’re at it, use that brain of yours to figure out what you’re going to say.” 

Azriel looked down at the plate, then back at Cassian. The clarity in his friend’s gaze was undeniable. With a resigned sigh, he nodded, realizing Cassian was right. He couldn’t let this moment slip away. He had to talk to Y/N, to clear the air before things got even more complicated. 

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist: @paintedbyshadows

[moremaybank]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — k.m

pairing klaus mikaelson x fem!reader

summary klaus pleads with you as he tries to win you back (based on the song “how you get the girl” by taylor swift)

warnings a little angst, fluff, klaus's fear of reader dying (no actual character death, though)

author's note i'm genuinely so happy with how this turned out. i put the chorus last because it worked better, i hope that’s okay. and i know this was supposed to be mainly fluff, but inspiration struck, all right? don't hate me. also, changed my layout a little.

klaus masterlist ;; valentine's day ‘23 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

stand there like a ghost

shaking from the rain, rain

she’ll open up the door and say, “are you insane?”

say it’s been a long six months

and you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

and that’s how it works

that’s how you get the girl

and then, you say

klaus stood at your doorstep, a bouquet in hand, as he debated back and forth between making his presence known and ringing the doorbell or running like hell in the opposite direction. to say he was torn would be the most incredible understatement of all time.

one the one hand, he wanted to see you. god, did he want to see you. he wished for nothing more than to drink in the glimmer of your bright eyes, the curve of your lips when you smiled, the glow that overtook your complexion. 

but on the other hand, he was scared. each person who had chosen to love him became collateral damage in the hands of his lifelong line of enemies, and he couldn’t bear for that to be your fate. he couldn’t be selfish with you because you made his life feel worth it just by existing. 

so he walked away. 

those same enemies he’d feared would take you away from him permanently and forever had now been conquered, but he still struggled to sleep at night. he’d toss and turn, and if he were lucky enough to drift off into slumber, you’d overtake his dreams too.

he’d hear the harmonious crinkle of your laugh, feel the ghost of your lips on his, and his mind would subconsciously replay the memories of the nights you’d spent dancing together, with him twirling you around the room as you giggled. you would tell him that you loved him beyond what you ever thought was possible, and he would say the same to you in return. 

everything was perfect. until it wasn’t. 

one night he’d sat you down, barely being able to look you in the eye while he told you that your relationship couldn’t go on, that it wouldn’t last. you’d fought like hell to make him believe in how strong your bond was, that nothing could tear you apart, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. and so, he ended it. he’d never seen anyone run off so fast, supernaturally or not. as you did, he could feel your heart shatter in his hands, which hurt him the most. he’d always promised to protect your heart and cherish it, and now it seemed as if it was a mere lie he’d told you to get you to trust him.

but that was then, and this is now. the same concerns did not carry the same weight on his shoulders as they did before. klaus needed you. as the original hybrid, he was almost fearless. but with you, it was different. he was different. your love made him brave. it pushed him to see the light he carried deep within himself, and he desperately needed that. he needed you. someone that believed in him more than anyone else had ever even tried to. and that was enough to push him to ring the bell.

the door creaked open, and your eyes went wide when they landed on him. “klaus, w—what are you doing here?”

“i love you, y/n. and i’m not leaving until you’re mine again.”

remind her how it used to be, be, yeah-yeah

with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

tell her how you must have lost your mind, ooh-ooh

when you left her all alone

and never told her why, why

and that’s how it works

that’s how you lost the girl

and now, you say

“go home, klaus. i’m not doing this with you,” you spoke, moving to close the door.

klaus stopped you, however, sticking his foot between the doorframe and keeping it nudged open. “please. please hear me out.”

you looked into his eyes, the familiar hues of cerulean bringing warmth into your chest �� an unwelcome warmth if you were truthful. at that moment, he’d never looked so honest. even now, after all these months, you could still read him so well and decipher where he was telling the truth. 

“you can’t come inside.”

“that’s fine. i don’t need to. i’m going to fix this, even if i have to stand out here in the cold all night and talk your ears off,” he chuckled, trying to make you smile.

you didn’t, though, and his grin quickly began to fade. he cleared his throat in the awkward silence, “y/n, i’ve lived longer than anyone on this earth — barring elijah — and i know this to be true; i was an idiot to walk away from what we had. i did it out of fear, fear that i wouldn’t be able to protect you. fear that you’d die in my arms and i would have no way of helping you. if you had left me, i wouldn’t have been able to survive it. so i forced myself to walk away. but that only made things worse.”

klaus watched as the anger and hurt on your face began to waver, and he hoped you believed in everything he was saying.

“i want you back. i want our life back. i want to dance with you in the living room to that willie nelson song you love. i want you to toss flour at me while you’re baking the most magnificent beignets i have ever tasted. i want to feel your beat next to mine every night and feel the ache in my chest when we’re forced to spend the night apart,” he spoke, carefully inching closer to you. “i want to marry you, give you a family, hell, give you the world. i just want you.”

and you know

oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

that i don’t want you to go, oh, oh

remind me how it used to be

pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks

and say you want me, yeah-yeah

and then you say

you ran a hand through your hair, closing your eyes shut as you tried to process everything klaus had just said to you. 

“y/n?”

“just— give me a second to take this all in, klaus. you can’t just come back here after six months and expect me to waltz back into your arms. i loved you, klaus. i still do, and that means something to me. but you hurt me. how am i supposed to trust that you aren’t going to run off and leave me in the dust every time you’re afraid?”

klaus reached out, trying to place his hand on your arm in comfort, but you moved out of his reach before he could. 

“y/n, please. i’m not afraid anymore. no one on this earth will fight to protect you the way i will. i’m smart enough to see that now. these past few months without you have been absolute hell, and for me, that’s saying something.”

he reached forward once more, this time successfully gracing your arm with the familiar heat of his palm. “if you’ve shut the door on us forever, i understand, and i’ll respect your decision. but you should know that i’m not going anywhere this time. i promise you.”

you huffed a sigh, breaking your locked gaze as you thought about it. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this moment on repeat during the handful of months you’d been without him. all you wished for, in and out every single day, was for klaus to show up and tell you that he was wrong. to say to you that he was sorry and that he’d never let you go again. he’d take your face in his palms, thumb swiping over your cheekbone as he always did, pull you close and kiss you. a kiss so magical that it would take all of the pain and agony away. and when you’d pull away, he’d mumble how much he loved you against your lips, and you’d grin wider than ever before. 

all of your shared memories sprang into your mind, of kisses on cheeks, nights spent in each other’s arms, days of exploring the city hand in hand. you remembered how great the love you shared was and thought of how great it could be again. 

and that’s all you hoped for. 

i want you for worse or for better

i would wait forever and ever

broke your heart, i’ll put it back together

i would wait forever and ever

and that’s how it works

that’s how you get the girl, girl, (oh-oh, oh)

and that’s how it works

that’s how you get the girl, girl

“i know i hurt you. i broke us, and i’m willing to put us back together if you’d let me. i am going to be on this earth until it disintegrates into ash, and even then, i will never stop fighting for the chance to win you back. nothing could ever make me walk away from you again.”

your eyes met once more as his statement pulled you out of your thoughts. you looked at him, your heart cracking wide open at his sincerity. 

“stop fighting, klaus.”

“didn’t you hear what i said? i’m not going to, not even if you beg me.”

“no. i’m saying…you don’t have to fight for a chance anymore,” you spoke, moving to stand right in front of him. “you’ve got me.”

his lips curled up, his dimple showing as he surged forward, cradling your face as he always had, stroking your cheeks with his calloused thumbs as he always had, and let the magic bleed through his healing kiss. 

your hands circled his wrists, and you smiled against his lips, finally feeling as if your heart and mind were at peace again. everything had fallen back into place, and the world finally made sense to you. 

he pulled away reluctantly, leaning his forehead against yours. “i’m going to marry the bloody hell out of you,” he breathed.

“slow your roll there, mister. we only just got back together,” you laughed softly. hearing your laugh was music to klaus’s ears because he’d been waiting for it for so long.

“we’ve spent enough time without each other. i’m done waiting. let’s get married.”

you pecked his lips once more, watching a crimson dance along his cheeks. “let’s get married,” you repeated, agreeing with him.

he grinned, swooping you up into his arms bridal style as he spun you around. you squealed with a giggle, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as you held on tight.

and that’s how it happened. that’s how klaus got the girl.

klaus tag list (join here!): @princess-charming-01 @maybankslover @kittyqrt @darkmoonbloodshake @techlipse @the-kaya-aa @catmikaelson20 @hopesdadswife @amournoir @iluvniklaus @diyabhanushali1 @your_best_hoe @ijustlovetoread @lyn07 @elenavampire21 @theesexystallion @dudenhaaa27 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @shawnspoems @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @luzberg @thelastgreatamericandynasty1989 @conniesanchor @milly-louise @angel037

[kaeyas-beloved]

dust

Character: Albedo

— when chalk crumbs, all that’s left is dust

CWs: gn!reader (no pronouns), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, death (Albedo), could be read as romantic or platonic, I bullshit a research entry in this, spoilers for Albedo

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

He... he always talked about losing control. You never really understood what he meant by it, but you do remember the nights holding him tight and swearing that he would never fall to such evil. It just wasn't something he'd do, and your unwavering faith in him always brought him some form of comfort, even when he never believed you for a second.

"It's nice, to have someone place their trust in me that is."

But now, as you stand in the middle of the aftermath, smoke heavy in the air, buildings crumbling all around, any vision wielder that could fight congregating in the middle of the city and a pile of dust on the ground, you're left to wonder if there was any stopping what fate had ordained.

For a split second you could swear you heard nothing. When the arrow was fired and struck the threat to Mondstadt - struck Albedo, you remind yourself, he wasn't something, he was someone - you didn't know what to feel. You could feel the eyes of the people on you as you walked without thought toward the pile of powder. The pain as you scraped your knees on the concrete was nothing compared to the pain in your chest.

"The Chalk Prince... I see now..." you mumbled, hesitating to touch the substance.

"Why are you called the Chalk Prince? Don't tell me it's because you were created from chalk?" You'd asked one day while helping him in his lab, sitting not far from him on a stool.

Albedo remained silent, going back and forth between skimming through notes and adjusting the settings on his burner. "That is a conversation for another time. Now please, could you hand me two lizard tails? One blue and one red."

He never did outright answer you, but you remember him talking about how all living things will eventually and inevitably return to their original state. Maybe this is what he was trying to tell you.

The hand on your shoulder brings you back, but you can't bring yourself to look up at who it is (you later learn it was Kaeya, who had his own complicated expression). From there everything was a mess of colours and muddled words. You catch a couple apologies for your loss, people running to check on their loved ones and their homes, and discussions about what to do now. Nothing really sticks though, a case of looking but not seeing, hearing but not listening. You do, however, remember hours later being handed a wooden box, Albedo's name, birth and death date carved on the front.

“You were the closest to him. Klee also received something similar.” Fuck, you think, a fresh wave of tears coming along. Your heart breaks at just the thought of how devastated and confused Klee must be. Seeing the instant change in emotions, Jean quietly leaves you be.

The hardest part though was going through his office. It was a day you thought you’d never be prepared for. When you arrived you were proven right, stuck hesitating at the doorway.

You’d never again see him sat at his desk, documenting his findings or refilling his stock of alchemy ingredients. That painting in the corner by the window will forever lay unfinished and the small bed never to be slept in again.

His presence will slowly fade and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

With a heavy heart and tears in your eyes, you start the long and agonizing process of packing his things away. Beginning with his desk you put away various books, loose papers, displays and even the drawings Klee had gifted him over the years. You moved on to strip his bedding, then pack away his paintings. By time you reached the last bookshelf the warm hue of the evening sun was already illuminating the room.

Letting out a quiet yet shaky sigh you get to work again. Since the books were already in order you took care to keep them close to one another, taking off three or four at a time. Despite how gentle you tried to be though you managed to drop a few, the covers too heavy and slipping from your grasp. You’re quick to apologize even though there wasn’t anyone to apologize to. Still, it felt like you should.

As you collect the hardcovers and the loose papers that were neatly placed between the pages, a particular title catches your eye. Gentle setting what you gathered off to the side you begin reading through the research entry, which was dated about a year and a half ago.

During my research into the mysteries of life and creation, many documents from various backgrounds mentioned the potential of substances holding 'memories'. Some focused on the nature aspects, how trees and lakes remember what and who has affected them. Others however stated that all tangible beings can be included in this theory. Due to the evidence presented, as well as previous knowledge, I believe both are possible.

Molecular wise, it’s not out of the scope of reality, and it’s backed up in the biological aspect as well if heredity is taken into account. It raises the question of just how far alchemy can stretch the laws of nature, and if this can be applied to any and all substances that have been touched by human and nature's hands.

The moment you finish reading a tiny spark of hope ignites within you, and your body launched into autopilot before you could even think. Chalk is a substance. The chalk was him so it would have memories of him. I could bring him back! You start scanning for similar papers around the room and in his notebooks, hoping to find more clues; you collect the things you think you'd need to go through with this act of divinity.

Just as you're about to dump the first chemical that comes to mind you freeze. You... don't actually have any idea what you're doing...

No, you think, inhaling a shaky breath, I've watched him do these kinds of things so many times, I have to know something. You go to pour again yet stop once more; as the bottle trembles in midair you know deep down it's true, you don't know the first thing about creating artificial life, let alone alchemy.

The bottle thunks back onto the surface of the table and a new wave of tears begins to flow, though this time not because of loss but due to hopelessness.

Your legs are quick to give out from beneath you, your back leaning against the desk and as you bring your knees to your chest, sobs filling the forever quiet space, you manage to choke out your true feelings.

"Albedo... I don't know what to do..."

Tag list: (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere

[dee-writes-anime]

Hi! I love your works so far, I haven’t been following your blog for long but I am already sucked in😭 I thought I may as well request. Would you be open to writing a slowburn or semi-slowburn bkdk fic? You can choose if you would like to add smut and age-up, but I’d love to see you write their characters.🤍

THE STRIKE ZONE

FEATURING Katsuki Bakugo x Izuku Midoriya

SUMMARY Katsuki Bakugo is a world renowned picture at the top of his game. Izuku Midoriya is an up-and-coming sports analyst who got lucky enough to find himself in a long-term position analyzing and interviewing Bakugo. The two of them have unresolved history from their childhood and Izuku could have never expected that the spark was still just as fierce as the last time they talked.

CONTENT WARNINGS slight angst, slow burn, no romance just yet, Bakugo being Bakugo

AUTHORS NOTE this is not the beast I promised because I decided I hated how I wrote it originally. I still haven't decided whether or not I even like what I wrote for the second time, but if you like it and maybe want to see this become a series, let me know! Hope you enjoy! <3

The afternoon sun hung low over the stadium, casting long shadows across the diamond as Katsuki Bakugo stepped onto the mound. His presence was a force of nature—a sharp contrast to the chatter and chaos of the crowd. His signature glare was locked in, focusing on the batter standing in his way. Everything else faded into the background. The only thing that mattered was the ball in his hand and the next strike. 

From the press box, Izuku Midoriya could see the tension in Bakugo's shoulders, the fierce determination burning behind his eyes. It was unmistakable. He had seen it before, during countless games growing up, but now, this close to the action, it felt different. Personal. 

“Bakugo’s been on fire this season,” he muttered, typing furiously on his tablet, his thoughts spinning into a series of detailed notes for his upcoming article. "Fastest recorded pitch in the league, unpredictable breaking balls... He's impossible to read.” 

A flash of movement caught his eye as Bakugo reared back and fired another fastball. The sound of the bat slicing through the air echoed around the stadium—a clean miss. A strike. 

Midoriya's heart raced. 

This was his first live game as an official sports analyst, and of all the players, it had to be Bakugo Katsuki—the same Bakugo he’d known for years, ever since they were kids. They had grown apart after high school, their paths diverging sharply, but somehow, they were always drawn back into each other’s orbit. Like now. 

Bakugo had made it to the top of the league, his explosive talent making him one of the most feared pitchers in Major League Baseball. Meanwhile, Midoriya had worked his way up through the ranks of sports journalism, his obsessive attention to detail and deep understanding of the game earning him respect as an analyst. Today was his debut covering the league’s biggest star, and he wasn’t sure if that was a coincidence—or a twist of fate. 

As the game progressed, Midoriya found himself watching more than just the stats. He noticed the way Bakugo moved, the precision in his throws, the way his expression never wavered. Yet, there was something else beneath the surface—a crack in the mask that Bakugo wore so well. Maybe it was the exhaustion from a long season or the pressure of the spotlight, but Midoriya saw it. He always did. 

Bakugo struck out another batter, ending the inning with a triumphant snarl, and as he walked off the mound, his eyes flickered briefly toward the press box. Their gazes met for a split second, and Midoriya froze. Did Bakugo recognize him? It had been years since they last spoke, but that brief connection sent a jolt through him, stirring memories of a rivalry long left behind. 

Midoriya shook his head, pushing the thought away. He had a job to do, and he wasn’t here to dredge up the past. Yet, as Bakugo disappeared into the dugout, that old feeling of competition—of something unresolved—lingered in the back of his mind. 

The rest of the game blurred by in a flurry of fastballs, curves, and strikeouts, with Bakugo dominating the mound like he always did. Midoriya couldn’t help but admire his former classmate’s skill—even if Bakugo had been insufferable back in the day. There was something mesmerizing about the way he commanded the game. Every move was calculated, every pitch perfectly placed, as if he had memorized every weak spot of every batter he faced. 

Yet, as Bakugo continued to dominate, Midoriya’s mind wandered back to the years they spent growing up together—well, more like growing up beside each other. Their rivalry had been anything but friendly, always one-upping each other in everything from schoolwork to sports. And now, even though they hadn’t spoken in years, that tension was still there. Bakugo had made it to the top, and Midoriya couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still trying to catch up, even as a reporter. 

The post-game buzz hummed through the stadium, and Midoriya gathered his notes, preparing for the real challenge: the locker room interview. He had to face Bakugo. Professionally, of course. They weren’t kids anymore, and Midoriya wasn’t about to let the past cloud his judgment. He took a steadying breath as he made his way to the locker room. 

The atmosphere inside was intense, the heat of the game still palpable in the air. Players moved about, their voices low as they cooled down from the adrenaline rush. Midoriya scanned the room, catching sight of Bakugo in the back, sitting alone, as usual. His head was down, towel draped over his neck, muscles tense with post-game strain. 

This was it. 

Midoriya approached, his footsteps echoing louder than they should have in the silence between them. He hesitated for a split second before standing a few feet away from Bakugo. The air between them felt thick, charged with something unsaid. 

“Bakugo,” Midoriya started, keeping his tone neutral, professional, though his voice felt a little too small for the moment. “Can I ask you a few questions?” 

Bakugo didn’t look up at first. He wiped the sweat from his face, then slowly lifted his eyes to meet Midoriya’s. And there it was—that flash of recognition. Sharp and unyielding, like a gust of wind hitting a flame. 

“Deku?” Bakugo’s voice was low, rough from the game, but the familiar edge was still there, as if he hadn’t forgotten their history. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Midoriya straightened, doing his best to ignore the nickname. He wasn’t the same kid who used to cower under Bakugo’s sharp tongue. “I’m here as a reporter,” he replied evenly, holding his ground. “I wanted to talk about your game today.” 

Bakugo let out a short, humorless laugh, tossing the towel aside. “Of course you are.” He leaned back against the locker, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowing in that calculating way that always made Midoriya feel like he was being sized up. “Go ahead. Ask your damn questions.” 

Midoriya steadied himself, forcing the tension out of his voice. “Your curveball was nearly untouchable today. What’s been your approach this season to refining your pitch? It seems like you’ve found new ways to stay unpredictable on the mound.” 

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t respond. He just stared, as if debating whether to give a serious answer or brush Midoriya off like he used to. But then something shifted in his gaze, and he shrugged. 

“Gotta stay ahead of the game,” Bakugo said, his voice casual, but there was an edge beneath it. “Everyone’s always watching, waiting for you to slip up. I don’t give them the chance.” 

Midoriya nodded, scribbling down the response, though his focus wasn’t entirely on the words. There was something more going on here, something that went beyond the standard post-game interview. It wasn’t just the tension between them; it was the way Bakugo answered, like there was a wall between them that had only gotten thicker with time. 

“And your fastball,” Midoriya continued, his tone carefully measured. “It’s faster than it’s ever been. What’s changed?” 

Bakugo snorted, leaning forward slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “None of your business, Deku.” 

The name stung, as it always did, but Midoriya swallowed it down. He was here to do his job. “It’s my job to ask, Bakugo. You know that.” 

Bakugo’s eyes flickered with something—maybe frustration, maybe something deeper that Midoriya couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, I know,” Bakugo muttered, his voice softer now, almost resigned. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the game. “Look, you wanna know why I’m pitching better? Fine. It’s because I’m not thinking about anyone else but myself. That’s what it takes.” 

Midoriya frowned slightly. “No one else? Not even your team?” 

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Midoriya thought he had gone too far. But then Bakugo stood, his posture towering and tense, the fire in his eyes blazing hotter than before. 

“I don’t need anyone slowing me down,” Bakugo shot back, his voice rising just enough to make the rest of the locker room glance their way. “I’m the best, and I don’t need to prove it to anyone—not to you, not to them. Got it?” 

The intensity in the air was unmistakable, crackling between them as if the years apart hadn’t dulled their connection at all. Midoriya was no longer the boy who would shrink beneath Bakugo’s glare, but that fire was still there, burning just as fiercely in the spaces between words. 

Bakugo stood in front of him, arms crossed, muscles taut with frustration, his expression daring Midoriya to keep pressing, to say something that would make him lose control. But Midoriya knew better now. He’d learned to handle the sharp edges of Bakugo’s personality—he had to, if he was going to make it through this interview unscathed. 

“Is that why you’ve been isolating yourself lately?” Midoriya asked, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I’ve noticed you’re not interacting with your teammates as much. Is this part of your strategy too?” 

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the room felt too small, too confined for the tension building between them. Midoriya could feel the weight of Bakugo’s stare, like a storm gathering on the horizon, ready to break at any moment. 

“You’re really digging, huh, Deku?” Bakugo muttered, voice low, dangerous. He stepped closer, and Midoriya had to resist the urge to step back. “You think you know everything about me just because we used to go to the same school? Because we grew up in the same shitty town?” 

Midoriya’s breath hitched, but he didn’t flinch. He met Bakugo’s stare head-on, refusing to let him push him away. “I’m not trying to dig up the past, Bakugo. I’m just asking about your approach. You’ve always played with that chip on your shoulder, but now it seems like it’s weighing you down more than ever.” 

The locker room had gone quiet, the tension thick enough to suffocate. Bakugo’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a second, Midoriya wondered if this was it—if Bakugo was finally going to snap. But instead, Bakugo’s lips twisted into a tight, bitter smile. 

“You think you know me, Deku?” Bakugo said, his voice soft but cutting. “You don’t know a damn thing. You never did.” 

Midoriya’s heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something he wasn’t sure he could name yet—building inside him. This wasn’t how he expected the interview to go, but it was Bakugo. He should have known better than to think it would be simple. 

“Then tell me,” Midoriya said quietly. “Tell me what I don’t know.” 

For a moment, the challenge hung in the air between them, neither one willing to back down. Bakugo’s eyes blazed, his jaw tight, but just as quickly, the fire in his gaze dimmed, replaced by something Midoriya hadn’t seen before—something that looked a lot like weariness. 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Bakugo muttered, turning away. “This interview’s over.” 

Before Midoriya could respond, Bakugo stormed past him, his shoulder brushing against Midoriya’s just hard enough to send a jolt through him. Midoriya stood frozen for a moment, watching Bakugo’s retreating form, the locker room door slamming shut behind him. 

Midoriya’s fingers tightened around his tablet. He had gotten the bare minimum out of Bakugo—certainly not the in-depth analysis he had hoped for. But even more frustrating was the way that familiar, unresolved feeling gnawed at him. There was still something there, something unfinished between them, and it was bigger than just an interview or a rivalry. 

It was personal. 

As Midoriya packed up his things, he couldn’t shake the sense that this was far from over. Bakugo wasn’t the type to let things lie, and now that they had crossed paths again, that old fire was burning brighter than ever. 

[olympeline]

(Part 6 of my Catch the Queen USUK omegaverse/cardverse AU!)

Last time a sickly young Arthur’s true identity was revealed to Alfred in a suitably (🥁) dramatic fashion. And as bad as his secret coming out was, at least Arthur could finally explain to Alfred why he was so terrified of being found out. Alfred had the Talk after he saw the family cat getting “friendly” with some of the neighbours’ kitties. So he knew what sex and heats were all about. He knew from school that the Queen of Spades was an omega and the King was an alpha and it was their job to rule and have lots of babies. Knew but never thought about it much. The fate of the throne-bound King and nest-bound Queen were just more Adult Things: boring to young Alfred.

Not any more. Not with Arthur clinging to him, near tears, and begging Alfred not to tell. Not to make him go back. Arthur had always been tough and fiery. He was a kid who lived in the woods by himself for months for Spades’ sake! To see him frightened like that had Alfred almost crying himself. But then Arthur fell into another choking fit, coughing up blood onto Alfred’s nightshirt until it’s splattered red, and as Alfred held him he felt something start to change deep inside. Arthur was someone he’d come to love, even if in just a childish, puppyish way. Alfred is a hero at heart. He wanted Arthur to be safe. He wanted to protect him. A little of his future second sex starting to show? Maybe. But that’s just how Alfred is anyway, you know? So he held Arthur close and rubbed his back until he stopped coughing - yeah the roles have really switched here lately, heh - and said he wouldn’t tell. Arthur made him promise, swear on his life, and only calmed down when Alfred said the words. Arthur trusted him: he knew his friend was honourable.

After Arthur fell into an exhausted sleep, Alfred lay awake thinking. Arthur needed a doctor but any doctor would obviously want to examine his chest. Yeah, no good. Big predicament there. Alfred could only think of one answer: he’d have to find a way to cure Arthur the way Arthur helped him. A magic cure for a magic illness. Alfred had no magic skills but Matthew was coming home and his brother had just started learning to be a mage. Maybe Mattie would have some ideas? It was a childish hope but what other option did Alfred have? When Matthew did come he was ecstatic to see his twin restored but surprised at how down Alfred was. Alfred explained the situation with as few details as he could, making it seem as if Arthur was a simple runaway rather than an escaped Queen. Matthew was suspicious because what ordinary nine year old runaway was that powerful? But he agreed to try and help anyway. Arthur still slept with Alfred most nights and Alfred had forced him to spend the rest of his time in the Jones family stables. Arthur refused to be in the manor house during the day while the servants were awake, so it was the best compromise they could come to. For a brief period Arthur lived up in a corner of the hayloft. It was risky - there were always stable hands around - but Arthur was beyond staying in the woods. He spent most of his time in feverish sleep, waking up to suffer through coughing fits or to eat whatever Alfred brought him. Fading fast but still so, so stubborn. That’s Arthur for you. He’s a proud, obstinate character at the best of times and always struck me as getting a hundred times more when he’s frightened. And he was more frightened of being the Queen of Spades than anything.

Alfred brought Mattie to see Arthur and it didn’t go well. Arthur was spitting mad from the moment Alfred woke him up and he saw his friend wasn’t alone. Alfred had taken his promise to mean not tell any adults who would take Arthur back to the palace. Arthur took it to mean not tell anyone about him, not even Alfred’s own twin. They had another bad fight (poor Matthew standing around in the background just so awkward oh god) and Arthur pushed himself too far for the last time. Had himself another fit and this time it just didn’t stop. Alfred held him as he vomited gouts of blood onto the stable floor but no, the voice was wrong. It was Matthew holding him - Arthur couldn’t tell at first as preoccupied with dying as he was - but Alfred had gone. Then suddenly he was back and not alone for the second time: he’d brought help in the form of their local doctor. Yes, Alfred broke his word. It killed him to do it but the writing was on the wall. There was no way Mattie could fix whatever this was, and Alfred wasn’t going to let Arthur die, promise or no promise.

Didn’t stop Alfred’s heart breaking at the sheer look of betrayal Arthur gave him as he was carried away. Alfred held his bloody hand as long as he could, tears falling the whole while. He wanted to keep his word, to protect Arthur, to be his hero. But how could he? He was too small. Just a frightened child, so far out of his depth.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m so sorry…”

Those were Alfred’s last words to his best friend. Of course Arthur’s Mark of Spades was discovered and he was immediately taken back to the palace. The Jones family had been good to the doctor - who had treated the twins’ mother before she died - and he kept Alfred safe by lying and saying Arthur was found by chance. Fortunately the palace accepted this falsehood as the court officials were so distracted by their Queen-in-waiting being at death’s door. It took a full team of elite healers from the Kingdom of Hearts (the Suit with the most powerful restorative magic) to patch the tear in Arthur’s soul and save him. And even then, even with all their skills, the mages of Hearts couldn’t banish the after effects completely. Arthur grew up slighter than he should have and still spit blood on the anniversary of the day he healed Alfred, but these drawbacks were manageable. The greatest cost wasn’t physical but mental: Arthur lost his memory. Magical wounds are strange and, for whatever reason, healing this one robbed Arthur of all his months on the run. When he finally woke up, weak as a kitten, there was nothing but a grey fog. Maybe sometimes a fragment or two: golden hair, the scent of a sickroom, the feeling of someone holding him tight, bright, joyful laughter, but that was all. Arthur was saved and the price he paid was forgetting Alfred completely.

But Alfred never forgot Arthur. How could he? Arthur was his best and dearest friend. Since the day Arthur left, Alfred never stopped missing him. Never forgot that he had to break his word to save the boy he’d come to love. He heard about Queen Arthur’s amnesia through the local gossips but it didn’t dent Alfred’s desire to see him again. To someday get back to Arthur and help him. He never forgot how scared Arthur was, how much he wanted to escape the oppressive life of the Spade Queen. A life Alfred had returned him to. Matthew told his twin (correctly) a thousand times that he wasn’t to blame. Alfred was only a child when it all went down! Besides, his actions saved Arthur’s life. How could he have possibly done anything else? Any reasonable person would have done the same. Alfred heard him, accepted the logic of Matt’s words, but the guilt gnawed at him even so. So Alfred trained hard and, with the help of his super strength plus his own sheer grit and determination, became the heroic knight he always wanted to be. One who helped the helpless and defended the weak. One who would one day travel to the palace and see Arthur again.

And there you have it! That’s the USUK backstory of this AU. That sunshine knight who caught the undefeated dark Queen? Turns out the knight’s shock victory was only possible thanks to the two great gifts - health restored and unnatural strength - that the unknowing Queen had himself bestowed on him, years before. Not to mention the long buried feelings that made Arthur’s magic turn traitor and stopped him harming a hair on Alfred’s golden head. Even to save himself. How’s that for some bitter irony for you? Poor Arthur. No matter what the universe, his bad luck is truly in a class by itself 😂

(End of Part 6! Can you believe this was meant to be a short AU with like, two parts at most? Oh lord, lol. And if you’re wondering why Alfred chose to duel Arthur if he knew how much Arthur didn’t want to be a caught Queen? Well, fear not because all that and more will be explained. Next time 😉)

[saphir93]

Adam x Lute - First meeting in Eden

Adam chose his exorcists, but if he and Lute had already met before in Eden? I loved the character of Adam so much, he is very deep and full of things to say yet, his narrative arc is not closed and his emotional bond with Lute is wonderful, it definitely brings out his best and best side. He must came back in the show, as I say feel that his character arc is not closed. Hope evry Adam fan and Lute X Adam will enjoy this things that I made.

First meeting in Eden

Garden of Eden. Adam and Lilith have just been created, but they don't get along at all and do nothing but argue. Adam turns offended while Lilith escapes and runs away. Lute comes down from the sky because she is curious to see the first man, so she flies through the garden but Lucifer is also there, so she decides to land and hide behind a tree. “What am I doing? I…I shouldn't be here.” she thinks. She is sweaty and her heart beats hard, but as soon as she places her gaze not covered, she scrutinizes Adam. Adam is sitting on a rock, he is naked, beautiful, perfect but sad, very sad. Lute is struck by such beauty and blushes.

“So this is the first man.”

Meanwhile Adam complains “That damned female never listens to me! I fucking hate her! I do everything I can to please her and she rejects me!” Lute sees that Adam is crying out. “I can't accept it, I can't see him being like this.” she thinks, then she decides to reveal herself to him. Adam looks up and is struck by his beauty and stops crying.

Adam “You are an angel…but, but you are a woman.” Lute “Hello first man. Yes, there are also female angels among us.” Adam “Well you know, the only one who visits us often is always Lucifer. I didn't think there were even females among you. My name is Adam anyway.” Lute “Adam, what a beautiful name. So tell me Adam, why are you so sad? Something wrong?" Adam “What's wrong? That I, Adam, I'm never enough for that ungrateful female! She's always complaining and criticizing, I can't stand her anymore." Lute approaches Adam, stroking his back. “But you are Adam, you are the first man, she must respect you and be grateful to be able to have you by her side. She doesn't realize how lucky she is!" Adam sprang to his feet. “You're fucking right! I am Adam, the first man! Everything will come from me, I need respect and I will have it!” Lute smiles “Of course the first man deserves it!”

Adam “Oh Lute, it would be nice if women were all like you angels! I feel better now and I thank you. I will make sure he respects me!”

Lute “Happy to have been of help to the first man.”.

Adam as he walks away. "Yes. You know, I also hope to see you again.”

Lute makes a sad face, then she thinks "I also wish it could have lasted longer Adam.". Lute while she is returning and flying carefree collides with Lucifer "And what are you doing here?" Lucifer was perplexed "I'm asking you the same question! I was checking that everything was fine as usual." Lute "Me too." Lucifer "Actually, I saw you as you approached Adam." Lute "But you were very close to Lilith!"

Lucifer "Okay, listen...neither of us saw anything." Lute "Clear" Lucifer "Good." Lute thinks “He knows I shouldn't be here and yet he's letting me go” she arrives at the gates of heaven to look sadly at the clouds beyond the gate “I hope Adam is okay”.

A lot of time passes and Lucifer is expelled with Lilith, the two make Eve eat the apple. Adam eventually became the first soul welcomed into heaven. Adam becomes an angel. Sera's office. Sera “Now that you are leader of the exorcists you can choose from our best fighting angels.” Evening shows the row of exterminating angels. Lute meets Adam's gaze and is afraid of being discovered, Adam recognizes her immediately and with a pleased face points to her without thinking. Adam smile “How small the universe is...” Sera “What's happening Adam?” Adam “It happens that I have chosen! There she is, the sexiest one. I really want that badass bitch over there! She is perfect! " Sera rolls her eyes at Adam's response while Lute tries to keep herself composed even though she feels uncomfortable while her linemate, Agatha glares at her full of envy. Adam “Even the one who looks at her badly, but yes. I want both bitches. They are perfect.”. Once outside Sera's office, Adam takes off his helmet and looks at Lute "I knew I'd see you again." Lute tried to avoid it. Adam “No. Don't do that, look at me." Lute takes courage and looks at him, Adam winks “It's our secret.” Lute blushes. “Lucky bitch who saw the first man. You are so sweet.” concludes Adam.

The start of a fan series I'm working on and writing the script. This part will become a future fan animated video, collaboration with @kimtrik96

[fromperdition4]

Kinn the Star

There is so much to say about this scene in the woods - where Kinn and Porsche are finally on equal footing, and they both take turns encouraging the other to open up.

One line from Kinn here sticks with me the most -

He explains how he'd wanted to be a singer as a kid, entered a competition but quit. Not because he didn't do well, but because he thinks his father bribed the judges to let him win.

And my mind's just whirring with all the implications here:

First, there's what this shows of Kinn's character - he has all the makings of a nepo baby, and definitely uses his money and privileges to get things that he (or rather his father) wants (see: expensive diamond necklace that no one's ever going to wear). But, he also has pride and integrity - he can recognize when other people are more deserving than he is, and he doesn't want undue recognition. Not when it's something that would be personally meaningful to him otherwise.

Then I'm also struck by Korn's side of this (because I can't stop thinking about Korn's relationship with his sons) - was bribing the judges an act of fatherly care, one of those intrusive things that controlling parents do because they think it would be better for their kid (even when it's something their kid would hate)? Or did he see an opportunity to improve the family's reputation, and couldn't stand to see a Theerapanyakul lose? How did Korn take Kinn quitting, if that was the case?

Of course there's always the possibility that Korn didn't bribe the judges, and Kinn won on his own merit...

never mind

That Kinn's long-forgotten dream was to be a singer of course reminds us of Kim, who's now following that same dream and seems to have carved out some freedom from the family in doing so. Did Kim's interest in singing come from Kinn, from bonding with his big brother/wanting to be like him? Did Korn meddle with Kim's career too, when he was young? Does he still try to?

And finally, it occurred to me on this rewatch that there's a bit of ambiguity here in just want kind of competition Kinn entered.

I'd always assumed it was a local competition - maybe one meant for kids, where they would compete first in their region/school and then the winners would move on to a larger, national competition. That would make sense for how Kinn could both win but also quit - he just didn't move on to the next competition.

But the phrasing here could also imply that Kinn went on an actual televised singing show! His family would certainly have the connections to get him on (and hey, they may or may not have a modelling agency now that would totally have hired Jom to star in a new series)...

Can you imagine baby Kinn singing his little heart out under the bright studio lights? How much he would have been adored and hated in equal measures by the viewers at home?

(There may be some who still talk about that weird kid on Thai Idol, who crooned out a bunch of oldies and stole the heart of the judges, but then dramatically bowed out in the very last episode...)